


A Loyal Shinobi

by ComparedFever



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Like all of my work tbh, Self-Indulgent, Sorry Not Sorry, but just be warned I guess, like tbh I had figured it out before i even reached Big Decision time in game, mild spoilers and, spoilers for one of the alternate endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComparedFever/pseuds/ComparedFever
Summary: Wolf has protected Lords and their ilk before. He does not expect the Hirata to be any different.There is a saying, Wolf had heard once, about the danger of expectations.Or;Wolf meets precious Lord Kuro and just Cannot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve beaten the game a few times now, and while I can blaze through the early game pretty fast, it still surprises me every time when cold, stoic, I-am-a-failed-shinobi-wallowing-in-self-pity-and-have-no-time-for-pleasantries Sekiro turns into an awkward, precious, soft boi when face to face with his young Master. Their bond really interests me, and I have wasted probably too much time imagining how it came to be so strong.
> 
> I was really hoping somebody else would write it and save me the trouble, but apparently I am going to have to do it myself like a heathen.
> 
> Just a heads up, I'm playing it fast and loose with the games timeline, which seems to be my default setting for everything tbh.

When his father slides the shoji open to expose the Lord who will be Wolf’s new master, he withholds the small bubble of surprise that bursts in his belly. It is a child who rises to meet them, his round young face framed by dark hair.

Owl ducks through the door, beckoning for Wolf to follow, and dips his massive frame low in a surprising show of reverence.

Wolf imitates the motion.

A man steps forward to greet them, hair pulled into a severe topknot and a sword at his hip. A retainer perhaps. Wolf imagines the Hirata is too small for generals, and this man is certainly no Lord. “Master Owl,” the man inclines his head in greeting.

He does not show Wolf the same respect, merely acknowledges his presence with a notable flicker of distaste in dark eyes. Wolf keeps his expression blank.

“Lord Nobutane apologizes that he could not be here to greet you himself,” the man speaks with a crisp, polished accent, though it lacks the lilting cadence of nobility. “His health has continued to decline.”

Owl is difficult to read beneath bushy eyebrows and a hardened visage. Even with years of practice, Wolf cannot identify the peculiar expression that twists across his father’s features.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Owl says. “Though I imagine that is why the Hirata have approached us.”

The retainer nods. “I present to you, Lord Kuro. He is Lord Nobutane’s nephew and heir.”

Lord Kuro does not bow or dip his head, his station far above theirs. His eyes dart back and forth between Wolf and his father, appraising them from head to toe. They linger for a moment on the sword at Wolf’s hip. “Good evening,” he says.

Wolf drops to his knee before the boy. “My Lord.”

His father emits a rough, throaty sound that experience has taught Wolf is one of approval. “Lord Kuro,” he steps forward to lay a huge hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “I present to you my apprentice. He is a shinobi of high skill and ability, all of which now fall to you. He will be your loyal tool. Use him well.”

Lord Kuro says, “Thank you, Master Owl,” and turns his attention back to the man at his feet.

Wolf keeps his eyes fixed firmly down. “You are dismissed,” Lord Kuro directs to the room after a moment. “I would like to become acquainted with my shinobi.”

Wolf does not have to look to know the retainer is displeased. “Yes, my Lord,” he says, stiff, followed by the quiet rasp of his sandals against the floor.

His father makes no noise, but his presence quickly fades from Wolf’s senses. The shoji closes with a snap. As soon as they are alone, Lord Kuro loosens, feet shuffling as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. He sighs into the sudden quiet of the room. “By what name do you go, shinobi?” He asks.

That is a surprise. The pause stretches into something awkward before Wolf says, “My father calls me Wolf, my Lord.”

A beat of awkward silence. “And that is your name?”

“It is what I am called.”

“I… see,” the young Lord says, though Wolf suspects he doesn’t. “Then I shall call you Wolf.”

Wolf allows his gaze to drift up, to catch the expression on Lord Kuro’s face; the determined slope of his mouth, the unanticipated flint in his eyes. Wolf remembers his father referring to the Hirata as a _‘small clan, surprisingly wealthy. They have been forced to lean on their Lord’s nephew as the man himself succumbs to illness, and are weaker for it’._

“Whatever you desire, my Lord,” Wolf says.

Lord Kuro retires not long after. Wolf is not surprised; it is late for a child to be awake, even a noble one.

Wolf follows the young Lord from room to room, clinging to shadowed corners. It will take time for Lord Kuro and his attendants to adjust to the him, but the nervous glances - hardly subtle, for all that they must think otherwise - lessen as the night grows long. Lord Kuro himself seems preoccupied with other things, and only looks over to check that Wolf remains with him as they move locations.

Wolf stays quiet and unthreatening and, predictably, his presence drifts to the background.

When Lord Kuro retreats to his sleeping chambers, the servants are abruptly reminded of Wolf’s existence as he peels away from his corner to follow. They startle, skirting away like a herd of skittish deer. Wolf slides the shoji shut on the furious upswell of whispers. A faint chuckle rises into the space behind him. “I apologize for their attitudes,” Lord Kuro says. “Most of them have never seen a foreign shinobi, I believe.”

Wolf drifts around the edges of the room, familiarizing himself with the layout. The only other entrance is the large square window on the eastern wall, likely to give Lord Kuro a daily view of the rising sun, though at the moment only the moon can be seen, hanging fat and swollen in the star-stained sky.

“Will you stay with me while I slumber?”

Wolf turns to face the young Lord. He is swaddled on his futon, thick, heavy blankets draped across his shoulders for all that the heat of the day still lingers. “I will always be close, my Lord,” Wolf says.

Something softens inside those sharp eyes, and suddenly they look young. Open. “Good,” Lord Kuro says. “I am glad.”

Wolf hesitates, thrown. Lord Kuro does not wait for his response, curling onto his side and retreating behind his cloth fortress until only the strands of his dark hair - stark against the pristine pillow - is visible. Wolf cannot recognize the sudden, strange warmth in his chest. Uncertain, he slides gracefully out the window and pulls himself up onto the roof.

The moon casts the surrounding courtyard in a pale imitation of sunlight, but Wolf’s eyes make no distinction. He can see equally well in either. The bustle of the estate drifts faintly to his ears, muffled by sturdy wood. Somewhere, a plate slips from a clumsy hand and shatters against the floor. The tittering of a pair of gossiping servant girls becomes clear, for a moment, as they slip between one room to the next.

A cluster of guards patrols the garden edges, the glow of their torches slipping between the bamboo sprouts.

The Hirata estate is… more lively than Wolf had expected it to be, with its Lord ill and a young child expected to take up the mantle. Perhaps they are a more resilient people than Wolf’s father anticipated. Or, more likely - Wolf thinks back to his new master, hard-eyed and fierce beneath the veneer of youth - they trust their future Lord enough to have no fear.

Wolf pulls his sword from his waist and settles into a comfortable crouch on the edge of the roof, scarf fluttering in the wind.

Elsewhere, the low call of an owl on the hunt carries into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t expect the rest of the chapters to come out so quickly lol. I am a notorious procrastinator. Also, heads up we’re going to start getting into a little more “open interpretation” land here so consider yourselves warned. I have some theories about the pre-game/story that never get fully explained in the game, and there are gonna be some hints of that in this fic.
> 
> I did probably the very minimum amount of research that can be deemed acceptable just so I could write like, two lines in here and pretend like I know what I’m talking about (*spoiler alert* I dont lol). For the sake of this story all you need to know is:
> 
> Sekkis - the traditional Japanese almanac calendar divides the year into 24 segments called sekkis. Think months but shorter and based on seasonal markers.
> 
> Ko - Each sekki is further divided into three sub-segments called ko. Think weeks.
> 
> If you’re like me and find your interest peaked by the strangest things, learn more about the ancient Japanese and Chinese calendars [here](http://factsanddetails.com/japan/cat18/sub114/item608.html)

The next morning dawns quickly.

The sun rising over the distant mountains is accompanied by the constant, shrill wail of the estate’s roosters.

Wolf, isolated on the rooftop, allows his lips to twist into a snarl.

He rarely harbors ill-will, especially not for a gaggle of mindless animals, but that sound could drive a Buddha to wrath. Below him, Lord Kuro begins to stir. Wolf slips into the room as the young noble rises from his covers. His hair is mussed, obsidian strands stuck to a drool-stained cheek, and his eyes are heavy-lidded with sleep. He blinks. “Mmm?”

Something inside Wolf softens despite himself. It must show on his face because the young Lord perla to near coherency. “Wolf,” he says, voice still sleep-rough. “Good morning.”

Not trusting himself to speak - skin crawling at his lack of control - Wolf drops to his knee and dips low. The warm weight of the sun begins to settle against his back as it rises high enough to send its rays directly through the window. Lord Kuro squints against the glare. Wolf shifts to his right.

The answering smile is bright.

Before the silence can stretch into something uncomfortable, there is a low knock at the door.

Lord Kuro shakes the last of the sleep from his shoulders and sits taller. “Come,” he says.

The servants bustle quickly into the room, giving Wolf a wide berth and sidelong glances. He follows a few steps behind as they sweep Lord Kuro off to face the day.

There is a quick, nearly utilitarian breakfast followed by a meeting with Lord Kuro’s most trusted advisers. The retainer from last night is present, expression souring at the sight of Wolf trailing behind their now shared Lord. Wolf meets his gaze without flinching. The shinobi hadn’t recognized it last night, but it is easy to see now in the harsh light of day; the bitterness of a man relieved of his duty. Relieved by a mercenary shinobi at that.

Wolf wonders how long the man will endure before implosion. The end of the current sekkis*, perhaps.

The session is short, little more than murmured greetings and a handful of reports. Lord Kuro dismisses them all quickly. The retainer lingers a second longer than the others but the young Lord does not call him back. With one last glare in Wolf’s direction, he leaves.

Lord Kuro sighs. “I apologize,” he says, subdued. “The decision to hire Master Owl and yourself was not without some debate.”

Wolf amends his earlier estimate to within the next ko*.

As is often the case with young nobles, Lord Kuro spends most of his time in study. Once they finish with the advisers, this day is the same.

A string of tutors comes and goes. Wolf carefully examines each one, memorizing their features and cataloging their weakness. The specialist on military action carries himself well, but not well enough to cover the limp brought on by a ruined knee. The maths tutor hides the shaking in his hands and the sake on his breath behind a haughty sneer. The economics adviser, a long serving member of the Hirata family, can hardly squeeze his bulging mass through the door.

Wolf is confident he could handle them all, should there be a need for it.

Shortly after midday, Lord Kuro orders a break to the parade and calls for lunch. He sends a series of increasingly concerned looks in Wolf’s direction, tentative to broach the subject but driven by a conscientiousness instilled likely since birth.

It is kind that he would even worry. Much kinder than Wolf is accustomed to.

“I do not require food,” Wolf says, vaguely hoping to calm the boy.

Lord Kuro startles. “Ever?”

The amusement that surges in Wolf’s chest is peculiar, irregular enough that it burns. “No,” he says. “But not when you are outside your rooms.”

In fact, Wolf has not eaten since the day before, when he split a cold, tasteless lunch of cured fish and boiled bamboo with his father at the edges of the Hirata estate. He can go for hours yet - days, even - with nothing else.

Lord Kuro frowns. “I spend very little time in my rooms. I only go there to sleep.”

Wolf says, “Good.”

Whatever the young Lord might say to that is lost when the shoji slides open and a throng of servants skate into the room. Lord Kuro prefers to take his lunches outside, and the entire congregation migrates to the engawa. It is relatively private, overlooking a small corner of the pond nearly swallowed up by the reeds on its swollen banks.

Within moments there is a small table set, and Lord Kuro settles delicately behind it. Wolf drifts away to examine the open corners, roof, and wall. He contemplates vaulting the stone surface to check the other side, but finds himself reluctant to do so. Lord Kuro would be unguarded. He settles for pacing the length, once, twice, three times, ears cocked and nose working for any hint of an intruder.

He is still learning the scents of the estate - what belongs and what doesn’t - but he is confident enough to return to his Lord for the time being.

Only one servant remains, a slender woman with greying hair. She hunches in on herself with age. Beside her lays a tray filled to the brim with food, and she meticulously takes a small bite of every dish before settling them on the table before Lord Kuro. The boy watches it all with a solemn, unhappy face.

Wolf’s eyes narrow.

“Thank you, Nogami-san,” Lord Kuro forces himself to smile at the woman.

“I live to serve, young master,” she dips into a low, reverent bow, gathers the tray and slips away.

After, it is just the shinobi and his master. Wolf watches the young noble hesitate. “You fear poisoning?” Wolf moves in close.

Lord Kuro ducks his head. “No,” he says, little more than a whisper. “At least, not of myself.”

Wolf drops to his knee beside the boy, a sharp frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Your uncle?”

“He was fine one day, and bedridden the next,” Lord Kuro at last picks up his chopsticks, but still makes no move to eat. “All of our Clan’s healers are at a loss. I sent a letter to Lord Isshin, asking after _his_ famous doctor,” a shaky breath, “They could not be spared - and even they were unfamiliar with the symptoms I described.”

Lord Kuro looks vaguely sick. “If someone did- If my uncle was poisoned then-,”

Wolf examines the young Lord, head tilted. “You do not fear for yourself.”

The boy shakes his head, somber. “I am… resilient,” he sends the shinobi a cautious, enigmatic glance. “My uncle and his vassals insist that my food be tested. I do not feel that it is necessary, and it puts the lives of my subjects at pointless risk.” There is a heaviness in the slope of his young shoulders, an anguish that does not belong on a child.

Wolf… hurts to see it.

Resiliency or no, however, chances cannot be taken when there is even a hint of danger. “I could be your tester,” Wolf makes the offer almost without conscious thought, and immediately bites his tongue.

The sentiment behind it is sincere, but only a fool would waste an elite bodyguard on testing food. Lord Kuro seems to realize this in the same moment. He smiles, openly surprised, but shakes his head. Wolf bows in acknowledgement and retreats to the edge of the engawa, perplexed with himself. There is something very much like mortification welling in the pit of his stomach.

“Thank you,” Lord Kuro says, after a moment, before the clink of chopsticks against delicate pottery reaches Wolf’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell yet that i am the human equivalent of an on-fire garbage can??
> 
> *throws self down the trash-chute labeled 'self-indulgent disaster writer'*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but here's another chapter!
> 
> Also sorry, still not a whole lot happening yet. I don't know if there's a tag for slow-burn plot, but if there is it prob belongs on this fic. Either way, your patience will be rewarded! In the next chapter shit goes from 0 - 60 in approx .3 secs, and so that'll be fun.
> 
> Last warning, from this chapter on the spoiler-y content is gonna get heavier, and that chaps are gonna get longer, so if you're trying to dodge that stuff then maybe this isn't the best fic.

One _ko_ passes, and then another, and nothing changes.

Lord Kuro rises with the sun every morning, breaks his fast with simple foods, then submerges himself in the daily demands of the estate and his studies. As the days bleed from one to the next, the clan acclimates to Wolf’s presence. Lord Kuro’s quiet, stalwart acceptance helps the process along.

Eventually, only the bitter retainer clings to his distrust.

The implosion Wolf had expected does not come, but he remains vigilant. Lady Butterfly had often lamented Wolf’s capabilities, but years of training had ultimately instilled a patience and self-control that even she - grudgingly - acknowledged.

It takes every shred of that self-control not to flinch when Owl appears before him one night, unannounced.

“Wolf,” he says. “You grow careless.”

It is not Wolf’s place to argue and besides, he must be. It has been many years since Wolf could not sense his father approaching. “Father,” he says by way of greeting, rising gracefully from his perch to turn and face the taller man.

Lord Kuro’s soft snores float through the window to reach Wolf’s sharp hearing. So long as the boy remains undisturbed then Wolf has not entirely failed. “Hm,” Owl’s eyes are hidden by the shadow of his brow, two pools of dark on a craggy, scarred face. “No trouble, then?”

It is strange that the master shinobi would ask a question to which he already knows the answer, but Wolf dips his head in agreement all the same. “No,” he says. “Nothing.”

“Remain vigilant.”

Wolf shifts, subtle. “You know something?”

His father turns away to gaze over the estate. In the moonlight, his long, thick braid shines like a stream of white fire. “Perhaps,” he says, then casts Wolf one last glance over his shoulder. “Or perhaps it is nothing.”

With that he drifts away, slipping effortlessly across the rooftop and dropping out of the sight. He moves with far more grace than his massive frame would suggest. Wolf watches him go with frustration bubbling in his stomach. It is not unusual for the Great Shinobi Owl to contrive his own schemes behind the scenes; Wolf always plays his part, for all that he has little talent for deception.

But here - now - such plots create a swell of unease beneath his skin.

He thinks of Lord Kuro, asleep in his bed- asleep?

Wolf’s senses sharpen to a dagger’s edge, every instinct primed for his next move. Lord Kuro’s snoring is no longer audible. He moves swiftly towards his perch, already preparing himself to slide through the open window. He stops short.

The young Lord stands braced against the windowsill, peering out into the night. The sputtering glow of a single candle radiates a fragile light. Not enough for the boy to see well. The wind’s nipping fingers pull at his hair, his thin white robes. Finally, he leans out into the night and calls, “Wolf?”

“My Lord,” Wolf responds.

The boy jerks his head up with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected Wolf to be so close, perched above him like an eagle over its nest. “Oh,” the boy quickly steadies himself. “I was not sure you would answer.”

Wolf slides effortlessly from the roof, catching himself on the tiled ledge. Lord Kuro quickly gives the shinobi space to drop into a crouch on the window sill. “I will always answer if you call for me,” he says.

Some tension that Wolf hadn’t recognized drips from the boy’s narrow shoulders. His mouth curls into a tentative smile. “I will be sure not to abuse this power.”

Lord Kuro does not labor to hide the emotions in his mannerisms or his voice, a habit that the shinobi would strongly discourage if it were his place. “You could not,” Wolf says. “Whatever you desire, I am here to fulfill it.”

“Whatever I desire?” Lord Kuro appears at once troubled and heartened by this. “I- thank you,” he says, and means it.

He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve. Wolf frowns. “Does something trouble you, my lord?”

The boy begins to shake his head, but stops. He looks at Wolf for a long, aching minute. There is a weight to his gaze that has Wolf unconsciously straightening. Lord Kuro makes his decision. “I had a dream,” the young Lord says.

Wolf is not sure how he should answer.

Lord Kuro sighs. “In truth, it was a nightmare.”

With this Wolf has more experience, but he knows the manner in which his father or Lady Butterfly handled him would not be suitable for his Lord. The memory of those times, escaping from the clutches of a terror conjured by his own mind only to be met by sharp steel and sharper words, nearly makes him grimace.

No, he will not bring that here.

Instead he rises from his position and guides Lord Kuro towards his bedding. “It woke you?” He asks.

Lord Kuro allows himself to be led. “Yes,” his small, bare feet are near soundless against the floor, “And then I thought I heard voices.”

He looks up at Wolf, eyes still glazed with whatever fear chased him from sleep. “My master was here,” Wolf says.

 _There is something he is not telling me_ , he does not say. It surprises him how much the words itch to escape.

Lord Kuro lightens with curiosity. “Shinobi Owl? He was here?”

Wolf grunts. Thinking of his father sparks stinging irritation in his gut. The young Lord seems to sense this, for he settles underneath his covers before he speaks again. “I hope all is well?”

The truth burns, a solid mass nestled in the space behind his ribs. Wolf says, “Yes,” through grit teeth.

Lord Kuro frowns. He examines his shinobi with thoughtful eyes. “How long have you served under Master Owl?”

Wolf blinks, caught flat-footed.

He gazes down at the boy, whose interest quickly morphs towards something sharper, a stubborn set to the mouth. When it becomes clear that no sleep will be had until at least this curiosity is settled, Wolf pulls his sword from his belt and sits. “He found me on a battlefield many years ago,” he says. “I have been his apprentice since.”

The young Lord leans forward, eager. “How many years? Since the rebellion?”

“Yes.”

Wolf watches the young face twist in thought, likely counting back. “Master Owl raised me,” he offers. “I call him father, and many acknowledge me as his son.” There are many who see him as nothing else, in fact.

Lord Kuro blinks, mouth gaping slightly in surprise. “Oh,” he says. “I did not realize-,” his words are lost in a wide yawn.

As soon as he recovers, the young Lord reddens, mortified. “My apologies.”

Wolf dips his head to hide the way amusement threatens to show on his face. “No offense taken, my Lord,” he rises from the ground. “Perhaps it is time you rest?”

There is a low murmur of discontent behind him, but it is followed by the rustle of bedding as Lord Kuro burrows beneath the covers into his favored sleeping position. Wolf glides to the candle. Its flame jumps and snaps against the night air, fierce despite its small size, and Wolf is almost sorry to blow it out.

“Wolf,” Lord Kuro’s voice has gone soft, reverent, in respect to the dark.

“My Lord?”

The hiss of silk sliding against itself. “Will you… stay with me?”

Wolf hesitates. He has a better vantage from the roof, but...

“Yes, my Lord,” he says, drifting closer despite himself.

Lord Kuro squints into the dark. The moonlight trickling through the window does his eyes no good, and yet his gaze snaps to Wolf as soon as the man turns. Wolf is not surprised.

“Your eyes?” The young Lord is hesitant, near shy.

Wolf reclaims his seat by his master’s bed. “Yes,” he says, guessing from experience what the question might be. “They have always been this way.”

Lord Kuro stares for a while longer, but eventually his lids begin to droop. “I see now,” his words slur with sleep. “I see now why he calls you Wolf.”

Another moment and then his soft, quiet snores reach the shinobi’s ears. “Do you?” He muses aloud.

He thinks back on that moment; eyes watering against the dry air, the burn of ash in his nose, and the iron tang of blood on his tongue. Wolf remembers his father’s massive frame wandering through the sea of corpses, stopping occasionally to flip a body onto its back or to pluck something valuable from unbending fingers.

Wolf does not remember much of that time.

He had been sick, he knew, with fever and with hunger. Sick enough and hungry enough that when Owl finally approached, he had grabbed the hilt of a nearby sword with every intention to use it.

He had thought only death would be the outcome.

Instead his father had seen something in him then; the wild instinct of a cornered animal, perhaps, or more likely the first inklings of a killer.

Wolf waits until he is sure Lord Kuro is into a deep slumber. Only then does he slink from the room, wolf-eyes gleaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so Sekiro's eyes straight up glow in the dark like an animals. real talk. no explanation given.
> 
> I love this fucking game with all my heart, if that wasn't clear lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys. As I wrote, I realized this chapter was getting way too long, so I decided to go back and cut it off. Good news, the next couple chapters are pretty much done lol so expect them soon. Like I said, more plot in this chapter. I like Angst so there will definitely be more as the story goes along. As usual, no beta, we die like men, etc., etc. Just know any mistakes are mine lol.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.

The next day, the estate’s peaceful routine is shattered.

It could be coincidence that his father visited the night before chaos erupts. Wolf is sure that it is not.

As the sun begins to rise there is a sudden, rapid clatter of approaching feet. Wolf slides quickly into his Lord’s room, hand to his blade. It is the retainer that slides the shoji open. He spares Wolf a glance, tinged with dislike even caught in the throes of whatever panic has taken him, but moves urgently to kneel at Lord Kuro’s side.

The boy is already well on his way to waking, startled by the noise. “My Lord,” the retainer says. “My Lord, I apologize for the disruption.”

Lord Kuro sits up, muffling a yawn behind a small fist. “What happened?”

The retainer hesitates, eyes moving to the shinobi in the corner and then back to the young lord.

“Oh,” Lord Kuro says, sharpening to full wakefulness. His next words are little more than a quiet breathe. “Uncle?”

Expression twisting with anguish, the retainer dips into a bow so low his nose almost touches the floor. “He took a turn for the worse during the night, my Lord. The healers are uncertain if he will see another sunrise.”

“I see,” Lord Kuro says.

He clings to his covers with a white-knuckled grip. When he locks gazes with Wolf, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. The expression on his face is lost, adrift. Wolf moves quickly to his side. “You may go,” he tells the retainer.

The man shoots up from his bow, stung. “Pardon?”

Lord Kuro does not seem aware of the conversation taking place over his head. He turns when Wolf is within reach and moves his grip from his sheets to the hem of the shinobi’s robes. His shoulders begin to shake; minute, near unnoticeable shivers.

Wolf says, “Leave,” with every ounce of steel he can muster.

He would rather not physically throw the man out, but he will do so if needs must.

The retainer surges to his feet, anguish forgotten as his rage surfaces. “The healers will allow you to sit with him now, if you so desire my Lord,” he says, cold, and leaves the room without so much as a tip of the head.

Lord Kuro remains oblivious to it all. Wolf does not know how to offer comfort - was never taught and rarely experienced it - so he stays silent. He hopes, distantly, that his presence is enough to bring some solace; in the past, the only respite he had been able to offer was a permanent one.

After a time, the shaking passes.

Lord Kuro surreptitiously wipes at his face with his sleeves, head turned down and away. Wolf keeps his eyes averted. “I will call the servants when you are ready,” he says.

A quiet, shaking breath. “Thank you,” the boy says. “I- I am ready now.”

Wolf waits until the small hands unlatch from his clothes and then goes swiftly to the door. He slides the shoji open to find Lord Kuro’s attendants waiting outside. Likely, they had been warned not to enter until summoned. They twitch nervously to be confronted by their Lord’s shinobi. He motions them swiftly into the room. Their unease heightens when Wolf makes no move to sequester himself in the far corner and instead hovers at their shoulders, watching their every move with a predator’s shrewdness.

They have Lord Kuro prepared for the day in record time.

Breakfast is a somber affair. Lord Kuro’s kind nature is muted by grief. Wolf watches the melancholy spread to the servants. It won’t be long before the entire estate feels the gloom. When the advisers arrive they offer first their condolences. The retainer sits apart, behavior unusually stiff. When it is his turn, the words are curt. The other counselors eye the man with obvious displeasure. He ignores them.

Lord Kuro accepts their well wishes with aplomb, nodding at the right times and responding in kind. Nobody dares yet bring up mention of succession. At least for today, it seems, such matters can wait.

As the meeting moves on to other things - the progress of the harvest, the welfare of the Clan, the state of their military force - the retainer remains churlish. Enough so that Lord Kuro begins to frown at the man, likely confused and - unusually - irritated. No doubt the boy’s admirable patience is worn thin by the circumstances. Wolf moves from his corner to take position behind his Lord. Irritation sparks in the man’s dark eyes, the stubborn tilt of his mouth devolving to a sneer.

“Is there something troubling you, Naoe-san?” Lord Kuro’s frown grows deeper. “Please, be forthright.”

Finally, the fight goes out of the man. He drops his eyes to the floor. “No, my Lord,” he says. “I apologize.”

Wolf knows a lie when he hears.

As the last topic is settled, Lord Kuro rises to his feet. “I will not be attending my studies this day,” he says. “The healers have given permission for me to sit with uncle. If there should be an emergency, that is where you will find me.” _Disturb me only in the case of an emergency_ , goes unspoken but is duly acknowledged.

Wolf shadows the young Lord as he leaves the room. The retainer, recovered from his chastisement, watches them go with a narrow-eyed gaze. Soon, Wolf thinks. His fingers curl loosely around the hilt of his sword.

Lord Kuro peels off from the main building and turns down a hallway Wolf has never visited. Likely, it leads towards Lord Nobutane’s chambers. Guards parade the corridors, making somber rounds, bowed under a disheartening woe. They hastily stand at attention when Lord Kuro passes.

Wolf can feel their eyes following them even when they turn a corner and cross out of sight. “They must know by now that their duty is almost over,” Lord Kuro says.

He has recovered somewhat from this morning’s grief. Enough so to acknowledge the bleak mood around them.

“Yes,” Wolf is not sure how else to respond.

Lord Kuro stops without warning. He turns to Wolf. “I,” he pauses to gather himself. “I am not ready,” he admits, little more than a whisper.

Wolf kneels so that he is level with the young Lord. “It is difficult to face death,” he offers, equally quiet. “If you are not ready to sit with him, there are others who may take your place.”

It’s not exactly proper, but Wolf doubts many will fault a child for being unable to hold vigil beside his dying uncle. Lord Kuro is shaking his head before Wolf has even finished. “No,” he says. “No, I must be with him. My uncle had been held in high regard for many years, and… and he welcomed me into his home without asking for anything in turn.”

Wolf goes stiff with surprise. Lord Kuro smiles, a small, sad thing. “You didn’t know,” he murmurs, “That I was an orphan?”

“No,” Wolf admits. “I did not.”

It becomes more clear as the days go by that there is much - too much - that his father has not seen fit to tell him.

The boy nods. “Because of my heritage,” his expression turns strange, shuttered. “Uncle took me in. He has been very kind to me.”

Lord Kuro says heritage with an odd, solemn inflection. It is not Wolf’s place to ask and other things are more important. It makes sense now, that Lord Kuro’s grief should be such a heavy thing.

Wolf still has no comforts to offer.

Curiously, Lord Kuro draws strength from his stalwart reserve. His spine reclaims the straight line to which Wolf has grown accustomed and the flint returns to his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I cannot afford to be weak. To sit with him is the least that I can offer for all that he has done, and this is the time when my people need me most.”

Decided, the boy turns and begins a steady march down the hall. Wolf follows after a heartbeat of surprise, oddly off-kilter. It is comparable to losing his footing when sprinting through the treetops, if Wolf had to describe it; one foot on solid wood and the other lost to open air.

By the time they reach Lord Nobutane’s quarters the shinobi has regained his equilibrium. The healers greet Lord Kuro at the door with deep, reverent bows. The boy acknowledges them with a grace far beyond his years, and then moves further into the rooms. Wolf is stopped before he can follow.

“Wolf,” his father says.

Lord Kuro freezes in the doorway to his uncle’s bedroom. Wolf regards the older shinobi, irritation reigniting in his belly. “Father,” he says, terse.

After a ko to settle in, Wolf and his father had taken up their usual routine wherein Owl guarded the days and Wolf the nights. It plays to their strengths as much as it does their weaknesses; Wolf is a creature of the dark with little head for political machinations. His father is no longer a young man, and prefers to be involved in the clan’s affairs.

They usually switch later in the day, before Lord Kuro has his second meeting with the advisers, and switch back during the young lord’s dinner. It is Lord Kuro who gives voice to the thoughts circling in Wolf’s head. “Shinobi Owl,” the boy turns to face them, a frown pulling at his mouth. “You’re early.”

Owl dips into a bow. “Yes, Lord Kuro,” he says. “I heard the news when I awoke this morning,” Wolf twitches, “And I rushed to be at your side.”

Lord Kuro’s expression is oddly blank. Wolf tenses, his eyes flicking back and forth between his Lord and his master. “Thank you,” the young Lord says. “Your concern is appreciated.”

A beat of awkward silence. “Yes,” Owl finally says. “I am here for whatever you might require,” his shadowed eyes drift to Wolf, and the furrows of his brow deepen. “And since I am already here, I will relieve Wolf.”

The tension in the room thickens. Wolf forces himself to remain impassive. “Very well,” Lord Kuro says.

He directs to Wolf, “You may go,” then turns and enters the bedroom.

The shinobi dips into a bow and falters. He blinks down at his hand, surprised to find his fingers curled tight around the hilt of his sword. Quickly releasing the weapon, he rises. Owl follows Lord Kuro. He stops in the doorway, massive bulk blocking out any view of the other room. “Wolf,” he says, almost too quiet for Wolf’s sharp senses. “Control yourself. Do not forget what you are.”

Wolf dips into another bow, then pivots sharply on his heel and moves quickly towards the door. As he reaches the elaborately decorated shoji, he is stopped again by a voice calling out to him. “Wait,” Lord Kuro says. “Wolf.”

He whirls around; there is no danger, just Lord Kuro stood in the doorway. Behind him, Wolf can see the outline of his father’s colossal frame. “Wolf,” the boy says again. “Please return soon.”

“Yes, my Lord,” his father’s warning rings in his mind, but Wolf cannot deny the heartfelt request. “I will return shortly.”

He forces himself to leave before he stays and does something truly foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a totally unrelated note; anyone have an upcoming game that they're excited for? I do! And let me tell you when Cyberpunk 2077 comes out, the real world might never see me again. Just wanted to get that off my chest.
> 
> If you any of you want to nerd out over games and other cool stuff, come find me on tumblr. I'm under the same username as here, Comparedfever. I'll prob be leaving the site soon, but I haven't found a new place yet lol so i'm there for a while longer.


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